Perfect

I’m just a speck, in reality, just a speck surrounded by all of the dirt, all of the water, all of stardust and broken dreams, and all of the other specks.
Why does it matter what the other specks think if we’re all small and insignificant in the world?
We’re what’s important to us, no need for anyone else’s negative opinion but we still take it in anyway, no matter what we’re told.
I could write a thousand words telling why not to listen, but we’re only human wanting to be perfect to everyone.
Forget the standards, go be your own kind of perfect.